


Better to be Loved

by IAmAVeronica



Series: Luponia and Ideria [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Confused Chris, Evil Gerard, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Implied Filicide, M/M, Murder, Sad Ending, Suicide, mild sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmAVeronica/pseuds/IAmAVeronica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Argent is his father's best weapon against the Hales.<br/>He's supposed to seduce Peter Hale.<br/>Instead he falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better to be Loved

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to my Sterek WIP, "I Still Believe." (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4630209/chapters/10557453). It's set about twelve years before the events of that story and is based on an anecdote mentioned by Kate in Chapter Ten.  
> If you haven't read "I Still Believe" and are just here for the Chris/Peter angst, allow me to give you a bit of background: Luponia is the very prosperous country where the werewolves live. Ideria is the impoverished land of humans.  
> Also, as you'll see in the tags, this story does not end with a happily ever after, which is weird for me, because that's usually my only criteria for a story. It's also my first time branching outside of Sterek, so...hope I didn't screw it up too badly! :)

There are some things Chris Argent knows for certain: 

His father is always right. 

The humans are inferior and must be controlled. 

The Hales are the enemy. 

Someday, the Argents will take back what is theirs. 

# 

Chris is an alpha who likes real omegas. His dad taught him that way. Omegas are naturally a little weaker and shyer and docile, despite what new-wave activists try to say, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Chris has no time for omegas who don’t act like omegas. 

He prefers females. His dad taught him that too. Chris’s own mother was a good omega. She could bake anything and was always willing to do so. She never spoke out-of-turn in public. She would cuddle Chris if he got hurt or had a nightmare, but not too much, so she wouldn’t turn him into a sissy. 

Kate, his little sister, presented as an omega when she was two. The very next week Chris’s mom did something crazy. She got Chris up in the middle of the night, told him to pack a bag, and bundled him into a rental car with Kate in the backseat. His father was nowhere in sight. 

They drove for hours and finally stopped at a motel around noon. Chris fell asleep on a scratchy, ugly orange bedspread and woke up to find his father standing at the door. His mom was crying and apologizing but Gerard just grabbed her arm and jerked his head at Chris to tell Chris to come on. 

The ride back home was completely silent except for a few sniffles from the front seat. When they got home Gerard took Chris into his study, where Chris was never allowed to go. He told Chris that his mother was sick. This happened sometimes to omegas; they were prone to depression and mental imbalances because of the way their hormones worked. 

“I need you to watch her, Chris,” Gerard told his twelve-year-old son seriously. “I can’t look after her every second of every day, so I need you to tell me if there’s anything wrong.” 

It was a big job, the biggest job he’d ever been given, and he felt very important as he told his father he would. Every day he would message his father with reports: if his mother was crying, or sitting at the table with a blank look in her eyes. If she was baking. If she had taken her pills, the ones Gerard counted out for her every morning and left on the table. She had to take more and more as she got sicker and sicker, and sometimes she tried to throw one or two away, but Chris was always watching carefully so he could tell his dad what she had done. 

One day she came downstairs to find seven pills all lined up in a row, way more than she’d had to take before. Chris’s father had ordered him to make sure she swallowed them, so he sat by the table with his arms folded. He was the Alpha of the house while his father was away, and he was going to make sure his mother was healthy. 

She tried to hide two of them in the sleeve of her bathroom and Chris growled at her, putting a little Alpha into his voice as he told her to take them all. He knew he sounded like his father, and his mother stared at him for a minute with recognition and what he was sure was respect in her clouded eyes. She swallowed the last two crying, and kissed Chris on the top of the head before she walked into the living room. 

An hour later he messaged his dad: _Mom’s not waking up_. 

But his father had already felt the mate bond break, and the police were there within minutes. 

She must have snuck some pills before her normal dose, Gerard told Chris. She’d done it on purpose. “Listen to me,” he said to Kate and Chris the morning of the funeral, crouching down to talk to them on their level, which he almost never did. “Your mother was too weak to stay with us. There is nothing that disgusts me more than someone who tries to leave our leave our family.” His eyes swept over them without any warmth. “That’s something I can never forgive.” 

Chris nodded and hugged his little sister close. He decided that he would never forgive his mother, either. 

Now that he is old enough to find an omega of his own he thinks about his mother. He wants a woman who knows how to be submissive, but not weak. Shortly after his twenty-first birthday he meets a woman he likes, but before they can go on more than two dates Gerard calls Chris into his study. 

“It’s time for us to act against the Hales,” Gerard tells him calmly. 

Chris takes a seat. He despises the Hales, just like his father. They support human rights and have trafficked hundreds of immigrants into Luponia, offering them the bite to cure the illnesses cast upon them as part of their natural weakness. 

Years ago the Argents had been the largest manufacturer of Luponian clothing. Chris’s great-uncle had opened an Iderian factory, where he used human labor— it was cheap, and there weren’t nearly as many restrictions on factory conditions in Ideria. The Hales had shut the factory down, claiming it was an ethical rights violation. They paraded humans with tragic stories of the Argents’ abuses, making them the centerpiece of a human rights campaign. The Argents’ stock sank and their company went bankrupt within years. Chris’s grandfather, who had been running for president— and leading in the polls— became one of the country’s greatest villains. The election was stolen out from under him, by none other than smug do-gooder Elmworth _Hale_

The richest and most beloved family in the country. Chris wants them all dead. 

“You’ll need to make a sacrifice, Chris.” Gerard says it very simply. He’s decided this is what Chris must do, so it is what will be done. “Peter Hale, Elmworth’s youngest son, is an omega of age. You’ll make him yours. If you’re mated, you’ll be a part of that family. Once you’re the only Hale still alive, the fortune will be inherited to you.” 

“But there are so many Hales,” Chris says, trying to remember them all. There’s Peter, and his older sister Talia, and her mate William, and all of their children…what do they have now, six? 

Gerard tilts his head. “Soon there won’t be.” 

# 

Chris finds Peter for the first time at a bar on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He’s impossible to miss. Gorgeous and boisterous, leaning over a table to flirt with two alphas, a wicked little grin on his face as he plays with them. 

Chris hates him. 

He goes to the bar and orders an absinthe, because Gerard found out it’s Peter’s drink of choice. He ignores anyone who tries to talk to him, because Gerard told him Peter likes a challenge. He palms himself through his jeans every so often, because Gerard is worried that his natural scent might not appeal to Peter, but low-level arousal should be enough to fool him. 

He’s expecting Peter’s attention but still jumps when a hand suddenly tugs his glass away from him. “You don’t sip absinthe, my friend,” Peter says as he takes the stool next to Chris. 

Chris looks Peter up and down. “You don’t look like you drink absinthe any way, little omega.” 

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not a _little omega.”_

“And I’m not your friend.” 

“Cheers to that,” Peter says, and drains Chris’s glass in one gulp. He’s got what looks like a permanent smirk. His eyes are a little narrow, maybe even shifty, and if Chris wasn’t here on business he’d tell him to get moving without a second thought. 

“Careful,” Chris says. “You might start hallucinating.” 

“That’s the fun of it, little alpha.” 

Chris hums. “You look like someone who only does things for the fun.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?” 

“I don’t remember saying there was anything wrong with it.” Chris takes the empty glass back and runs his finger around the rim contemplatively. “Until the hallucinations start.” 

Peter grins and flags down the bartender. “Let’s get you something a little less dangerous. Two shots of Jameson, please.” 

That’s Chris’s drink, annoyingly enough. He’d been nursing the absinthe to keep a clear head, but when the shot comes he downs it in one. “There you go,” Peter says, raising his own to his lips. “ _Salud._ Now tell me, what’s a pretty boy like you doing here alone?” 

“I could say the same for you, minus the _pretty_.” 

“I think it’s clear why I’m here,” Peter almost purrs. “So, what’s the reason for this sad face? Bad breakup?” 

“Pushy omegas who don’t let me drink in peace.” 

“Poor baby.” Peter reaches out and puts his thumb on Chris’s lower lip, swiping off a drop of whiskey. He licks the thumb slowly. “How about we get you out of here and away from all those pushy boys?” 

Chris laughs at that. “Does that really work on stupider alphas?” 

“Well, the stupid ones are the most fun in the sack.” Peter teases him out for a few more minutes, exchanging barbs and bites, the smile deepening in his eyes with every word. Chris finally scores a real hit that makes Peter throw back his head and laugh, at which point he finally sticks out his hand. “Peter Hale.” 

“Chris Argent.” 

“Ooh, an _Argent_?” Peter looks delighted. “That means you’re trouble. Gerard’s boy?” 

“We’re not close,” Chris says, parroting the line his father gave him. He has been practicing, so his heartbeat doesn’t uptick a bit. 

“Your father might throw a tantrum if he saw us talking.” 

Chris rolls his eyes. “There’s no grudge anymore. That was between our grandfathers.” 

Peter nudges at Chris’s ankle. “Don’t you want to play _Romeo and Juliet?”_

“Oh, come on. That wouldn’t even work on the stupidest alpha.” 

“Fine, then. We’ll skip the games and just get to fucking.” Peter traces a finger down his arm. “Let me get wet for you, Chris. I’ve made the rounds here, and you’re my favorite tonight.” 

Chris feels the high of success. “You’re a little slut, Peter.” 

“I like the way you say my name.” 

“Hope you also like the way I say goodbye.” Chris signals to the bartender. “Close out my tab, please.” 

Peter looks disappointed. “Nothing at all, Argent?” He sighs and leans against the bar. “Guess I have to work on my game.” 

Chris takes a deep breath. He grabs Peter’s hand and puts it against his erection. “Trust me,” he says quietly. “You’re doing just fine.” 

Peter’s jaw drops. Chris likes having shocked the sass out of him, so he takes the opportunity to grab the pen from his check and write his number on Peter’s hand, holding his palm taut so the ink sticks. “Drop the act and give me a call,” he says. 

Peter nods. “Maybe I will, Chris,” he says, smile a little less mocking now. “Maybe I will.” 

# 

The call comes in two days. Not in the late-night, an invitation to fuck like Chris was expecting, but midmorning. Peter wants to spend the day together at the Preserve, the closest national park to the capitol. 

Gerard is very pleased. 

When Chris arrives he sees Peter leaning against a shitty old jeep. “I thought you were a rich boy,” he says when he gets out of his own car. “What are you doing driving that heap of junk?” 

Peter runs a hand over the hood. “I’m cheap. My father wasn’t big into giving us spending money when we were little. When he died I got half the fortune, but I don’t know what to do with it.” 

That’s surprising to Chris. He’d expected all the Hales to have silver spoons up their asses. “Nothing wrong with letting it collect interest.” 

“Ha. That is what you’d want to do.” Peter pokes him in the chest. “You’re a boring old man.” 

“That’s not what I’d want to do. If I had that much cash…” Chris pauses. What would he do, with all that money? He’s heard all his life that the Hale fortune should belong to the Argents, but now that he thinks about he’d never thought about what they would actually do with it all. Just enjoy having it, he supposes. Trophies aren’t useful as anything but tangible proof that you’re a winner. “I’d buy a new car, at least. I know that much.” 

“Yeah? Who bought you that Range Rover, huh? Daddy Argent?” 

“I told you we aren’t close. I graduated early on scholarship, and now I’m a political aide. It pays well enough.” Chris snorts. “But it doesn’t come anywhere close to the famed Hale fortune.” 

“Ah, dear Chris. You don’t understand the struggle that comes with having money. The taxes! And you can’t just _have_ it, you have to spend it the _right way_. The endless bullshitting about philanthropy…” 

“You work at your family’s charity, right?” 

“Yeah. I’m not a fanatic about humans, like my sister, but God knows the Iderians need all the help they can get. It’s a depressing job, though. I don’t know. Maybe when I’m a little older I’ll branch out and tackle some other worthy cause.” Peter grins at him. “Any thoughts? What sort of charity would you run if you had the _Hale fortune_?” 

Chris isn’t expecting the question. He knows the answer, and he’s afraid to lie about this, since he thinks his heartrate will probably speed up. “Depression,” he says shortly, looking away from Peter into the woods. “Suicide prevention.” 

It’s clear that Peter knows about his mother by the way he immediately goes quiet. “I think that’s a good idea,” he says after a few moments, evidently trying to be genuine. 

This really isn’t a conversation route Chris wants to take, so he searches for a subject change. “Any other life goals besides philanthropy?” 

“Yeah. I’m getting my degree, too.” They’ve started walking into the woods as they talk. “Biochemical engineering.” 

Chris laughs, until he realizes Peter is serious. “That’s a tough major,” he says stupidly. 

Peter shrugs a shoulder and Chris catches his scent for the first time. It’s better than he was expecting. Something sharp that’s familiar but unnamed. “I’m brilliant,” he says. “Want to shift?” 

Chris nods and lets himself shift into his beta form. He feels good this way. The air is crisp, far away from the sweat and synthetics of civilization. Even though this date with Peter isn’t real, and Chris’s human side despises everything about him, his wolf is pleased to have an omega close by. 

Peter looks good in wolf form. 

Chris shouldn’t be thinking that. 

Peter nips him and takes off, streaking across the forest, leaving behind a comet’s tail of bright growling laughter. 

Chris chases him. It feels nice to let go and just be an animal, following instincts. Peter is sly and quick but Chris is dogged, and eventually he closes in. 

Peter looks back at him, laughing again, and swings himself onto a tree branch. He scuttles up quickly and perches ten feet above Chris’s head. 

Chris sits at the base of the tree and lets himself revert back to human. “I treed you,” he calls. “I win.” 

Peter swings his feet in midair. “Come up here and claim your prize.” 

He’s impossible. Chris hates games. “I’m not doing that.” 

“Fine, then. I’ll just stay up here. You’ll have to mark the tree so nobody else comes along and takes your prey.” 

“I’m not taking my dick out this early in a first date.” 

“Second date, technically,” Peter says, and just like that the branch he’s perched on snaps and sends him hurtling down. Chris crouches instinctively, arms out, and feels Peter slam into him. He’s sturdy for an omega and Chris gets knocked to the ground, Peter tangled on top of him. 

Peter puts a hand on Chris’s cheek and leans in so close Chris can feel the breath on his lips. “I fell for you, Chris,” he says, before snickering at himself and rolling away. 

# 

At the end of the date, Chris kisses him. 

It’s not as bad as he was expecting. 

They make another date for the weekend. Chris brings flowers, which makes Peter laugh, but Chris notices that he puts them in a vase right away so they won’t wilt. “Roses,” he snorts, brushing a finger over the petals. “Who are you trying to impress, here?” 

“You.” 

“Hell, I’m easy. Bring me a daisy and a smile and I’ll take you to bed.” 

Chris pulls his hand away from the petals and strokes the lines of Peter’s palm. “I don’t want to take you to bed,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” 

“Not tonight.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m afraid you won’t let me see you again after that.” 

Peter laughs. “Are you that bad in bed, Chris?” 

“No. You’ll eventually find I’m very good. But I’d like more than that with you.” 

The date goes late into the night, though they don’t sleep together, and when it’s over, they’re an official couple. Peter seems surprised by it. “I usually only want one night with an alpha,” he grumbles as he walks Chris out to his car. 

“I’m honored to break tradition.” Chris kisses him, accepting when Peter deepens it. Peter’s tongue doesn’t feel terrible in his mouth; it feels like a challenge. 

“It’s just because you smell so good,” Peter says when he pulls away. 

“Do it?” Chris is impressed by this. He hadn’t thought they’d be biologically compatible, but sometimes life makes things easy. 

“Yeah, you do. And you’re not like the other alphas. I respect that.” Peter grins. “And won’t it piss my sister off to hear I’m dating an Argent?” 

Chris rolls his eyes and gives Peter a parting kiss. “Hey, Peter?” he says as the omega starts back up towards the house. “If you’re going to jerk off tonight, it better only be to thoughts of me.” 

Peter salutes him cheekily. 

When Chris gets into his car he calls his father and reports the news. Gerard is very pleased. 

# 

Peter is everything Gerard said he was. He’s sarcastic, a little mean, and is constantly trying to manipulate the people around him, from Chris to his professors at school to the cashier at the 7/11. He’s jealous of his sister Talia, because she’s older and an alpha and Daddy’s favorite and the head of a huge, tight-knit family. 

There are other things, though. He’s smart, though he often doesn’t show it, and he has little patience for being treated like an idiot. Chris will start to say something and Peter will interrupt him— “I know that, Chris,” he’ll sigh, aggravated. “Why are you always trying to tell me things I already know?” 

He does love his family, very much. He’s got pictures of Talia’s kids everywhere, and if he has a family event planned he’ll never cancel to spend time with Chris, no matter how much Chris cajoles. 

He’s lonely, Chris realizes. He’s the beloved uncle to a whole crop of nieces and nephews, but he has no mate or pups of his own. He wants that very badly, so badly Chris can see that it scares him. Chris has a sneaking suspicion Peter prefers one-night stands to real relationships because he doesn’t want to be left. Sometimes he seems determined to drive Chris away: insulting him in endless little barbs, cancelling dates at the last minute, nuzzling in affectionately and then suddenly shoving Chris back. 

Peter just wants to be loved. 

That’s a good thing. Knowing his vulnerabilities will help Chris. 

There are other things he learns about Peter. He’s like sour candy: there’s a sweetness to him that Chris just has to wait out. They once find a fox kit in the woods, caught in an illegal trap, both hind legs broken. Chris says it should be put out of its misery, but Peter refuses. He makes Chris drive him to a vet as he cradles the little thing, gently stroking it with one finger. 

The vet saves it, and Peter names it Phoenix. He pays for its treatment, visiting it as the vet teaches it to walk again, hand-feeding it until it can hunt on its own. Chris is there when Peter releases it back into the wild, crying a little as it scampers away. 

“Sap,” Chris says, using his thumb to brush away a tear. He puts an arm around Peter and hugs him close, knowing that this once, at least, Peter won’t get self-conscious and push him away. 

“He’ll be okay, right? You think he’ll be able to find his mother?” Peter suddenly looks horrified. “I never taught him to avoid traps. What if he gets caught in one again?” 

“It’s okay. I came out here this morning to check. There was only one trap and I got rid of it.” 

“You did?” 

Chris nods. He had, even though it was a little idiotic. Peter loves the stupid fox so much that he would be a mess if it was hurt again. 

Peter leans into Chris’s touch and kisses his neck. “My family is having a barbeque this weekend,” he says. If he was capable of feeling shy, Chris would swear it was in his voice now. “You should come.” 

# 

The Hale family is nothing like Chris expects. 

Talia is the opposite of Peter in almost every way, save for the wicked sense of humor. She’s a little suspicious of Chris, he can tell, so he just keeps mumbling the party line that he and Gerard aren’t close. She seems satisfied enough, though she watches him with Peter when she thinks he isn’t noticing. 

The kids aren’t stuck-up little robots or saintly do-gooders. They run around the yard, shrieking at the top of their lungs. There’s a flock of them: Laura, Derek, Cora, Tyler, and Ella, with a baby too young to play with the rest and one more on the way. Because Talia’s husband is an omega both of them can carry children, and they’ve taken turns doing the bearing. 

There’s also a girl recently brought over from Ideria. Her name is Erica, and she’s a bitten werewolf. The Hales are fostering her until they can find her suitable adoptive parents. Gerard despises bitten werewolves, automatically made Luponian citizens and taking the jobs and resources that should belong to Luponians by birth only. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever met a bitten child before. She’s shy, but the Hale children are good with her, drawing her out of her shell to play. 

Derek, the same age as Chris’s little sister, arranges for a game of touch football and Chris watches with some amusement as he obviously lets five-year-old Ella escape his grab for a touchdown. “That boy has too kind a heart for his own good,” Peter mutters into his ear. 

“Go teach him how to play dirty, you little deviant.” 

“If you insist,” Peter says, and runs to join the game. He scoops up seven-year-old Tyler running for another touchdown and reverses direction, running Tyler past the goal to score on the opposite end of the field. “Touchdown, Uncle Peter!” he shouts. 

“Mo-om!” Tyler wails. 

“Flag on the play,” Talia yells without even looking over from the grill. 

“This is an outrage! Biased refereeing!” Peter reaches out to Chris beseechingly. “You’re impartial, Chris. Did I score?” 

“Sorry.” Chris takes a gulp of lemonade. “I’m just here to cheerlead.” 

“And looking good doing it.” Peter tickles Tyler until the boy wriggles away screeching. “Why don’t you come join the game?” 

“I wouldn’t be any match for your superior skills.” 

Peter laughs at that. “Stop telling me things I already know, Chris.” 

“Something tells me Uncle Peter will be _scoring_ later,” he hears Laura whisper to her brother, snickering at the bad joke. Peter overhears too, looks at Chris, and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

He’s incorrigible. 

# 

They do end up having sex for the first time after the barbeque. Chris thought he would hate it, since he’s only been with women before, but it’s not so bad. They don’t knot; that’s only for mated couples, but Chris takes his time inside of Peter, enjoying the way Peter moans around him. 

When he’s finished Peter asks Chris to blow him. Chris really expects to hate that, but once again he finds he almost enjoys it. Something about an omega, even this omega, making wild sounds of pleasure at what his alpha is doing to him just goes straight to Chris’s head. 

Peter doesn’t even taste that bad when he comes. 

Afterwards Chris insists on spending the night. He can tell Peter secretly wants him to, so he curls up in bed with the omega, inhaling Peter’s scent. Just before he falls asleep he figures out what it is Peter smells like: ginger. 

His mom used to make gingerbread on special occasions. That must be how he remembers it. 

# 

The next day Chris goes to give his father a progress report. Kate is sitting under their father’s desk, looking even more sullen and withdrawn than the last time Chris had seen her. 

“So you met Talia Hale,” Gerard says with a little smirk. “Did she have a halo, or has the media been overexaggerating?” 

“Talia Hale is a bitch,” Kate says, glowering up from the floor. 

_Bitch_ is an insult no matter how it’s used, but especially when used about an alpha female, and Chris is surprised to find himself annoyed on Talia’s behalf. “She was fine. Peter’s close with the kids.” 

“There are, what, ten Hale brats now?” 

“About to be seven. They’re just kids, Dad. We’re not going to…do anything while they’re still kids, are we?” 

Gerard raises an eyebrow. “You’d prefer for us to wait eighteen years and hope none of them find mates or have children of their own?” 

Chris snaps his mouth shut. He’s been raised believing that the death of the Hales is what is meant to be, but they’re just kids. The thought of actually killing them makes him feel sick. 

“All of life is war, Chris,” Gerard says sternly. “Of course I’ll do what I can to make sure the little ones don’t suffer, but we can’t afford to wait. Every Hale must die. Unity Aid is getting more powerful by the day. They want to flood our shores with Iderians, and send _our_ resources over to help those still in their own dying country.” He leans back in his chair. “Which is why I’m going to make their deaths look like an act of terrorism by Iderians. That should end the peaceful relationship they’re trying to build with the humans.” 

“What about Peter?” 

“He will be saved for last. I know you’ve had to sacrifice for this, so I’ll let you be the one to do it, if you want.” 

Chris imagines Peter looking at him before the killing blow, horrified betrayal in his eyes. “I don’t want that,” he says stiffly, and has to keep himself from running out of the room. 

# 

“We should adopt a puppy,” Peter says one day. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t trust you with a puppy.” The moment it’s out Chris curses himself. Surely Peter will be insulted, or think that Chris means he could never trust Peter with his children, or… 

Peter just laughs and rolls over on the bed, so he’s almost on top of Chris. “You’re just afraid it will love me more than you.” 

“I’m the alpha,” Chris grumbles. “It would have to submit to me.” 

“Sweet Christopher.” Peter caresses his cheek. “Don’t you know it’s better to be loved than to be feared?” 

Is it? Chris fears his father, and would do anything for him. Chris loved his mother, and she killed herself. “Don’t you dare get a puppy,” is all he says. 

“A kitten,” Peter bargains. 

“I’m allergic.” 

“Of course you are. What about fish? Or a bird? We could get a parrot and teach it to say dirty things…” 

“And where would it stay? Your apartment doesn’t allow pets.” 

“Why do you always tell me what I already know like I’m a moron? It would stay here, of course.” 

“So I’d have to take care of it all the time, huh?” Chris sighs and tilts his head back as Peter starts laying nibbling little kisses all along his jaw. “I guess you’re just going to have to move in, then.” 

Peter stops what he’s doing. “Oh, really?” he murmurs. 

Chris can’t tell what he thinks about this. “Why not?” 

“We’ve only been together for a few months. 

“So?” Chris shrugs. “I know full well if I ever dumped you that you’d take all the clothes from my closet and burn them in the backyard regardless of where you were living.” 

Peter grins. “You know me so well.” 

“Come on, baby.” Chris draws little hearts on Peter’s back with his finger. “Move in with me.” 

After a few thoughtful seconds Peter gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “I just can’t say no to you, pretty boy,” he says, pressing a long, slow kiss to Chris’s lips. 

Chris should hate being called _pretty boy_ by an omega, but he doesn’t at all. 

# 

Chris starts to forget that it’s not real. At first it happens just when he wakes up in the morning and finds Peter right there, soft and warm and smelling so good. He nuzzles in close and doesn’t want to let go of his omega. 

When did Peter become _his_ omega? He isn’t sure. 

Then he starts to forget during sex. Peter likes to switch, and Chris finds that he enjoys having Peter inside of him, setting up a punishing pace. Peter calls him _pretty boy_ a few more times, obviously noting how much Chris likes it. One day he perches himself between Chris’s legs and looks up from beneath his eyelashes. “May I suck my pretty boy off?” he asks sweetly, and Chris nearly blows his load right there. 

He forgets when he’s with the Hales, and they’re all laughing together, and the thought of killing them seems absolutely absurd. Chris has been raised to understand that taking lives is a necessary evil to stay on top. He remembers being very young, sitting in his father’s study as his father explained to him that some activists were trying to stop a bill he needed to pass, so he was going to get rid of them. He had an email open and he hovered his finger over the SEND key. “Do you understand that when I press this, people will die?” he asked Chris seriously. Chris nodded, and his father pushed down. 

That is reality. Life is war, like Gerard says. They are always under attack, and they must be proactive. If they don’t act, others will. Death is a weapon, and it is one the Argents have used for years and will continue using. 

But now it all seems horrific. More than horrific. _Insane_. This is not the way other people live their lives. He knows it’s important to stop humans from infiltrating Luponia— they’re inferior, and they want to mix their genes with those of werewolves and ruin a proud species. The natural order needs to be kept. He knows that. 

But he forgets. 

His father doesn’t realize that Chris is starting to get confused. He’s very pleased when Talia Hale calls him to make peace, since their families are becoming _undeniably closer_ — “She thinks this might lead to a mating,” he tells Chris during one of their progress reports. 

“Well, that’s the plan.” Chris feels oddly itchy, as if he wants to jump out of his skin. “But I don’t know… Peter’s restless. He might just leave me high and dry one day. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

The idea of Peter leaving him feels him with equal parts horror and relief. Peter would be safe. But he wouldn’t be with Chris. 

That’s not right. That’s not how he should be feeling. 

“You won’t let that happen, Chris. This isn’t just some idle plan, this is the only chance we have. You can’t very well go for one of the others after being with Peter.” 

“You still have Kate…” 

“Kate is an omega and a woman, and I wouldn’t trust her with this unless I absolutely had to. Besides, she’s a child. I don’t want to wait. You are the only one I trust to do this, Christopher. Now, tell me if there’s anything new to report.” 

Chris feels irritated and oddly panicked. “There’s honestly nothing. I mean, Peter was talking about getting a new car...” 

Gerard looks intrigued by this. “Try to get him to hold off, if you can. I’m planning a car accident for him and a new car will make it easier— I have a man who can fix the engine to start a fire, then rig up the brake lines so when he tries to stop the car the whole thing goes up in flames.” 

Chris goes cold at the mental picture this paints: Peter, trapped in his new car, a blackening corpse inside the burned-out husk. That devious smile burning away to nothing. “No,” he says before he can stop himself. “Not like that.” 

Gerard stares at him. “And why not?” 

“Just…don’t do it that way. Please.” 

Chris honestly thinks he hasn’t asked his father for a favor in his life. Gerard doesn’t take it well. “We’ll see,” he says curtly, and that’s the end of the meeting. 

# 

“What was your mother’s first name?” Peter asks him a few days after that. They’re on the bed together, each reading something for school or work, Peter’s head in Chris’s lap. 

“Why?” 

“Curiosity.” 

“Marlene.” Chris flips a page and ignores the tightening in his chest. “Marlene Argent.” 

Peter looks up at him. “She overdosed, didn’t she?” he asks gently. There’s nothing mocking in his expression or voice. He’s respected that Chris hasn’t wanted to talk about it before, but now Chris finds that he doesn’t mind this conversation. He’s never spoken about his mother with anyone, not even Kate. 

“Yeah. She was on antidepressants— Oracil, I think was the type. My dad counted them out for her. I remember the morning she did it— she took all seven of them, but she must have snuck some extras before or after to guarantee she wouldn’t wake up. 

“You watched her take seven?” 

“Yeah. That was the dose my dad left out for her.” 

Peter’s mouth turns down. “Chris…I think you must be remembering that wrong. Oracil is a one-pill dosage. Seven would be way too many.” 

Chris stares at him. He’s never thought much about this before, but surely Peter is right. Seven pills at one time is ridiculous. They weren’t small pills, either. But he distinctly remembers Gerard counting them and telling him to be sure she took them all. 

“You’re right,” he says shakily. “I’m remembering wrong.” 

Peter sits up, alarm on his face, and Chris reaches up to find there’s a tear on his cheek. “Oh, baby,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around Chris. “No, Chris. It’s okay.” 

“I’m remembering wrong,” Chris repeats, closing his eyes as the tears keep coming. 

“Of course you are, baby. Shh.” Peter rocks him for a long time. “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “I’m right here.” 

# 

Two weeks later Gerard calls Chris’s cell phone. “Is there a reason a five thousand dollar donation was made to the Luponian Society for Suicide Prevention in your mother’s name?” he snaps as soon as Chris picks up. 

Chris is so stunned he stops walking. “What? How do you know?” 

“She was my wife, Chris. I keep alert of her name.” Gerard sounds furious. “Did you do this?” 

“No. I don’t have that kind of money.” 

_But Peter does_. 

Gerard realizes it, too, and goes into a tirade, but Chris doesn’t listen. Peter had made a donation in his mother’s name. He hadn’t told Chris he was doing it, but…Chris counts back and realizes the anniversary of his mother’s death was last week. Peter must have found out and done it then. 

Chris has refused to mark that anniversary for years. He’s never even visited his mother’s grave. 

“It’s an insult,” Gerard is saying when Chris focuses back on him. “Trying to rub the shame of your mother’s death in our faces.” 

“Yeah. You’re right. An insult.” Chris says all the right things to get his father off the phone. But in his gut he knows that this isn’t an insult at all. 

Peter has finally found a way to use some of that fortune. 

# 

Two weeks later Peter grabs him around the waist as he’s trying to get dressed. “Hey,” he says, holding on tight. “I love you.” 

Chris feels something break loose inside of him. He turns around, tilts up Peter’s chin, and kisses him. “I love you too,” he says when he’s finished. 

It’s such a stupid thing to say, because he hasn’t practiced it, and Peter should be able to hear the lie in his heartrate. 

But the beats stay steady, so there’s no lie to hear. 

# 

Chris stops meeting his father for progress reports. He doesn’t want to lose any time with Peter. Their sex becomes more intimate and desperate at the same time, and Peter starts talking about what their pups will look like one day. They’re able to finish each other’s sentences. Chris gets really good at imitating Peter’s voice— _“Stop telling me things I already know, Chris”—_ and it can make them laugh for hours. 

One day they’re in the middle of sex when Chris’s phone rings. “Don’t even think about it,” Peter says when Chris stops moving. “You’re busy.” 

“It could be important.” 

“This is important, Chris.” Peter bucks his hips up. 

“Let me just see…” Chris grabs his phone off the nightstand and frowns. “It’s my dad.” 

“Give me the phone.” 

“No!” 

But Peter snatches it away. “Hello, Mr. Argent,” he says, winking at Chris. “Chris can’t come to the phone right now, because he’s…well, just imagine a pun around the word _coming_ and you’ll get the picture. But if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I’ll let him know you called. Have a swell night.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Chris laughs. A part of him is in awe that Peter just hung up on Gerard Argent, and another part is just afraid. Gerard won’t like this. 

“I’m not scared of that old man.” Peter sighs happily as Chris gets back to the matter at hand. “Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“He’s pissed about us, isn’t he?” Peter puffs. 

Chris considers how to answer this question. “Kind of. It’s tough. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Poor boy.” Peter groans as Chris bottoms out. “Just love me more than you fear him and we’ll be fine,” he says, tossing the words out downright casually. “You’re your own man, Chris.” 

Chris closes his eyes as he comes, thinking about what Peter had said. 

He’s thought it was better to be feared than to be loved, but as Peter wriggles up the bed to him, nuzzling into Chris’s chest, he realizes he was wrong. He’s been afraid of his father all his life, but now he has finally come to the point of choice. Fear or love. Gerard or Peter. 

And the truth is, that is no choice at all. 

It is better to be loved. It is so much better to be loved. 

# 

Chris goes to see his father the next day. He is shaking with resolve, a little fear, and fury. 

He will not be his father’s puppet anymore. Because he loves Peter. Because his little sister is being molded into a monster right before his eyes. Because seven Oracil is not a safe dose, and his father knew that. 

Because his father does not love him. But Peter does. 

His father is in his study, where he always is. Kate comes in to hear what Chris has to say, but when Chris tells Gerard that he won’t let him hurt the Hales her eyes go wide and she scuttles into a corner like a terrified animal. 

He has to get her out of here. Like his mother tried to do…before Gerard started her on the pills. 

“This is disappointing,” Gerard says, head cocked. 

“I love him. I won’t let you hurt him. The arrangement is off.” Each breath Chris takes hurts. 

“You _love him_ ,” Gerard repeats, as though he’s never heard something so silly. 

“I do. I love him. And I’m going to tell him— and all the Hales— what you want to do to them. I’ll tell them everything you’ve done. You’re sick, Gerard. You can’t go through life this way. You need to be stopped.” 

Gerard says nothing, and it’s infuriating. Chris is at least owed a fight. “I don’t even care if I lose Peter over it. I’m going to make sure you can’t hurt anyone ever again. This will be the last conversation we ever have. From this moment on, I am no longer an Argent.” 

Kate whimpers from her corner, where she’s curled up tight into a ball. 

Gerard gets up and walks to stand in front of Chris, still silent. 

“I know what you are,” Chris says. His voice cracks. “I know what you’ve done. I know everything you’ve done.” 

Gerard opens his arms and hugs him. It’s so surprising Chris just freezes, shaking a little as he tries to figure out what this could mean. “Shh, son,” Gerard says, voice so oddly gentle. “Of course the arrangement is off. All I want is for you to be happy. You finding love with someone is worth more than any fortune to me. You’re my son, Chris. You are what matters most to me.” 

Chris is afraid to believe, but his father’s embrace is so warm, and he’s never called Chris _son_ before. Chris moves hesitantly, and his dad’s arms tighten around him, like he’s afraid to let go. 

Chris cries. The tears burst out all at once, twenty-one years’ worth all stored up. He’d thought if there was any truth he had to cling to it was that his father didn’t love him; was incapable of love. As he stands desperately returning his father’s embrace he starts to think that maybe he’s wrong, about his mother. She swallowed all seven pills herself, after all, without Gerard there to force them down. 

Maybe Gerard was never going to kill the Hales. Maybe he’s all bluff. 

Chris needs to believe that, with his father’s arms around him. Because if Gerard is a monster, what is Chris, who followed him all his life? Not someone worthy of Peter’s love. 

“You’re all right,” Gerard says gently. “You’re fine, son. You go on home to Peter. Everything is just fine.” 

Chris clings to him and wonders if maybe it can be. 

“You have my blessing,” Gerard says. He pulls away and gives Chris a small smile. “Be a Hale.” 

# 

Peter is already half-asleep when Chris gets home, but Chris still leans over him and kisses him with all the passion he can muster. Peter enthusiastically responds to the kiss, reaching up to grab Chris by the shirtfront and pull him close. “What was that for?” he yawns when Chris finally needs to breathe. 

“I just love you.” Chris presses his forehead to Peter’s. “I love you a lot.” 

Peter chuckles and snuggles back into the bed. “Sweet Chris. Always telling me things I already know.” 

# 

Kate texts Chris the next day: _Dad wants to know your schedule for the week so he can have you and Peter over for dinner one day._

Gerard is making an effort. Ecstatic, Chris texts back: _We’re going on a day trip to the beach tomorrow. Leaving around nine, but we should be back by like sixish._

After a few minutes she texts again: _Okay. Dad just wanted to know_. 

“You’re about to get the Gerard stamp of approval,” Chris says to Peter, who is currently packing their beach bag for tomorrow. 

“I have a feeling he’s going to meet me with a ruler to measure if my hips are suitable for childbearing.” 

Chris wants to laugh out loud. He hasn’t let himself think about children, but that’s all possible for him now. He can have Peter for the rest of his life. “Let me see those hips,” he says, dragging Peter onto the bed with him. “Hm. They look all right to me. Now let’s see those tits…gotta know if you’re well-suited to nursing my pups…” 

“Chris Argent,” Peter groans as Chris puts his mouth to those little buds and sucks. “You’re not getting me pregnant anytime soon.” 

“I know.” Chris starts trailing little kisses down Peter’s happy trail. “We should get a dog first.” 

“You’re not worried he’ll love me more than you?” 

Chris shrugs. “Who could blame him?” 

# 

There are some things Chris Argent knows for certain: 

There is no finer scent in the world than ginger. 

Someday Peter will swell with Chris’s pup and Chris will spend hours with his lips pressed to the curve of his belly, breathing life and love into his skin. 

Having someone to challenge him is far preferable to having someone to submit to him. 

There is nothing better than being loved. 

# 

Chris has a childlike excitement about their beach trip. He hasn’t been to the beach since his mother killed herself, and he pulls up instructions on his phone for how to build the perfect sand castle. He wants to dunk Peter into the waves and find sand dollars. 

“Did you go somewhere last night?” Peter asks as they walk towards the new car. Peter’s pride and joy, purchased three weeks ago. 

“No. Why?” 

“I thought I parked her closer to the street.” 

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Don’t give the car a gender, baby. It’s weird.” 

“She has a _name_ , Chris.” Peter pats the hood affectionately. “Khaleesi.” 

They take off, holding hands over the center console. Chris can’t stand to not be touching Peter these days, now that he doesn’t have to be afraid of losing him. “We need to buy your nephew a birthday present,” he says. 

“I already bought one. A book on the history of the Luponia-Iderian conflict. Derek is something of a nerd.” 

“Says the biochemical engineer.” 

Peter snorts, then leans forward to stare out the windshield. His hand tightens in Chris’s. “Shit.” 

“What?” 

“There’s something wrong with the engine.” 

Chris looks too and sees a plume of smoke. 

“I’m going to pull off,” Peter says, flicking on the turn signal. 

In a flash Chris remembers what his father had said months ago about a simple enough way to get rid of Peter. “Peter,” he says, terrified. “Don’t brake— ” 

But it’s too late. 

Chris hears a roar and sees the front of the car go up in a fireball. Peter shouts and the dashboard disintegrates while Chris tries to lean over and undo Peter's seatbelt. Glass stings his cheeks and eyes, and then he is burning, hurtling into red darkness, and the last thing he knows is the feeling of Peter’s hand in his.


End file.
